


No women like her

by ChocoNut



Series: Jaime's awkward problems [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Jaime is Horny, Missing scene (maybe), Roadtrip, Season 2, Unresolved Sexual Tension, awkward boner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 05:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21266039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: When Brienne takes down the three Stark men, Jaime is more than just impressed by her swordplay.





	No women like her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ro_Nordmann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/gifts).

> For Ro, who asked for : Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP: JxB | #39 Survival/Wilderness Fic + #87 Aroused By Her Voice

One down. 

A skilled strike was all it took her to transport their assailant to the Stranger. He’d insulted her, laughed at her for being a blot on her sex, and she’d finally had her revenge. Sweet, indeed, it seemed to be, or so Jaime noted when he took in the way she threw a fleeting glance at the lifeless body by her feet, her sweaty face doing more damage to his nerves than he’d ever thought it would. 

But before he could attempt to ease his raging heartbeat, the second blow came, and with it went crashing another of the trio, the wench's precision, like before, perfect and lethal.

She turned to the last man standing, and when Jaime took in her heaving chest and her towering frame, all he could do was gape like a silly idiot. Lost in a world conjured by his troubled mind, he began picturing what she’d look like naked, her broad shoulders, her hips, her waist, her breasts, all of her laid out in front of him to explore, to--

_ She’s ugly, _ a part of him shouted out, _ undesirable, repulsive and not a woman at all._ This reiteration of his conclusive opinion of her hit him hard on the head, yanking him away from his dangerous dreams, tearing down the lust that dulled his ability to process coherent thoughts.

“Two quick deaths,” she announced, gritting her teeth, and Jaime was drawn to her again. Something in her voice captured his senses, something beyond the threat it was meant to convey, a little harsh, a little melodious, but above all that, terrifyingly enticing. 

Every time. 

Every fucking time she opened her mouth to say something, his ears seemed to lose track of everything else, his mind seemed to shut out the surroundings, his brain seemed to shirk its responsibility of coming up with an escape plan to hack her down to pieces and ensure that was the end of her, _ every _ part of him doing her the honour of giving her its complete and undivided attention. Now was far worse than ever before. The sheer power she exuded in her solitary battle against three of the stronger sex, her ruthlessness, the raw skill she possessed to take down any opponent that dared stand in her way - the sight of the wench engaging in this deadly dance of death did no good to his resolution to despise her. 

_ She’s ugly, _he consoled himself again, alarmed that the wall of hostility he had so meticulously built would soon crumble to nothing if he took no steps to distract his wayward thoughts and quell the sparks of desire that threatened to set him aflame.

A loud crash, however, returned him to her, his carefully cooked up plan of detaching himself from her falling to pieces. He watched with rapt attention when she dragged the man through a deliberately prolonged end, and while he saw her sword slowly dig into his twitching body, his mind exploded with wild fantasies, with visions of what it would be like to have her squirming under him, his _ sword _making her its home, disappearing into her inch by fucking inch. He pictured her screaming his name in bliss, shouting and pleading in desperation whilst he pounded away mercilessly, fucking her until her eyeballs popped out. 

_ Seven fucking hells, _he swore under his breath in disapproval, when parts of him approved of the subconscious mess he was suffering from, his cock rising to salute her when she stood over her adversary, his muddled head crowded with disturbing thoughts of what it might be like if she straddled him.

Her deed done, at last, she turned to him, and he tried not to stare at her flushed cheeks, her thick lips and her astoundingly beautiful eyes - the prettiest he’d ever seen. Eyes that never failed to enchant him penetrated the depths of his soul yet again, stirring parts of him he’d never expected would respond to anyone but the only woman he loved.

_ She’s ugly, _he reminded himself, to urge himself to calm down, to douse the fire that was slowly beginning to consume him. Compelling himself to focus on his pretty sister, he shook himself back to reality, back to the fact that he’d never set eyes on a woman as repulsive as her.

“Those were Stark men,” he pointed out, shocked that she’d forego her loyalty within the blink of an eye.

“I don’t serve the Starks,” she fumed, her voice, for the millionth time since he’d first met her, striking an unbeatable blow to his groin, “I serve Lady Catelyn.”

No further words were spoken after that, and as soon as she’d buried the dead women, they set out on their journey through the wild again. He trudged along behind her, keeping his mind in check and his eyes off her swaying hips and shapely ass. 

“Tell me about your family, my lady,” he inquired, hoping to trap her into another conversation, wishing he could get more of the voice that made his blood sing. 

“What would you take to keep your mouth shut, Kingslayer?” she barked, her eyes, flaming torches.

_ You don’t want to know, _he groaned to himself, the distressing images floating in his head answering her question. Quiet, he decided to stay, to make it through the rest of this tedious journey without further ado, to think of no one but Cersei, and certainly not about the annoying woman who assumed it her right to drag him along like a beast she owned. He didn’t reply, nor did he broach any other subject, and there was peace again.

On they went, the chattering of birds and the occasional leaf or two that rustled under their boots, the only sound around them.

“I had a brother,” she revealed, after long moments of excruciating silence, her tone faraway and wistful, the anger in it gone, and along with it the bitterness she usually pounced on him with, “Galladon.”

_ That voice again... _

“Tell me more,” he prompted, his keenness to get to know her better putting his determination to keep a safe distance from her in grave danger.

Thus began another conversation, leading him through paths he’d sworn to avoid. _ There are no women like her, _ he mused, when she began telling him about her family. _ Ugly, she is, yet strangely desirable. _

_ Odd, yet extraordinary. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
